


drowning

by sakon



Category: Ayatsuri Sakon | Puppet Master Sakon
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Kinda?, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Slight Character Bending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakon/pseuds/sakon
Summary: "Seriously, you're doing me in, sweetheart." Zenkichi groans and raises a hand, and it looks innocuous. Sakon doesn't seem to notice, and Zenkichi lifts it to Sakon's hand and pulls an inch. Almost, almost—Zenkichi falls into a lake, Sakon joins him, and metaphorical drowning happens. (And cute, not entirely nonlinear scenes occur.)
Relationships: Tachibana Sakon/Fujita Zenkichi
Kudos: 1





	drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Copius drowning, sailing, and sea references. Tagged with alt. character interpretation just in case of OOC content.  
> Updated: Expansion from a drabble into a full shot.

He meets him, they become pals, and he falls in love — all in that order.

Fujita Zenkichi is a mere man at sea, so feelings happen and just to happen to frequent his mind every once in a while. Lone in his quest to become, well, the best photographer in the name of plenty, (justice, his father's legacy) he knows a bit of loneliness. Busting tables, balancing books, and bustling to classes takes more than its fair share of time, and Fujita knows loneliness as constant company. He's a lone boat in the vast millions of miles, watching others pass by in pursuit of the stars in the sky as he follows Sirius in the murky.

But this — he has been at sea for a while, but _this_ must be drowning. Falling, suffocating, drowning. If you wanna roll with the ocean, you gotta tame the tide; if you want to fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn how to fly. He's saw his life reflect in bubbles, livelihood and all, but that wasn't drowning. Now he knows for sure— _this_ must be drowning. If anything else, what could it be? 

Flailing, scratching to swim, catching sight of himself in his mind as he gazes to the bleak picture of sunshine through the hazy water — this is drowning. It's how drowning feels. 

Gotta familiarize yourself with the ocean before you take the deep sea. But Zenkichi, himself, never checks the water, and today must be retribution. 

He trips and falls into a real ocean. Instead of swimming, he drowns. (No, but a little — he doesn't struggle. He's never been good at metaphorical charades. Can you drown willingly?)

-

Zenkichi's fallen in love with a bit of a vagabond. Sakon's not much of one, more a mawashi instead, but he still comes and goes, and time with him is as often as rain in a drought; never there, but always needed and always welcomed. Still, he's fallen in love with a transient-type with a love for travelling, one who's pursuing his dreams as he practices and climbing to accession and happiness, puppeteering across the lands of Japan in the ways of the elden days. Back then, the practice was reserved for only the most wealthy, but now the city slickers and down-and-out are able to catch sight of glory and the wealthy still find entertainment in the tradionalist arts. 

He's both neither — not destitute nor rich — and finds entertainment in the arts. Now, he's the type of man who can actually lay eyes upon the beauty in the arts. Well, Zenkichi doesn't care for Kyogen and Noh as much as he does ningyou-joururi. That's obvious, but well...

Who's judging him but Ukon?

Ukon's judging him for falling in love with the puppeter, but Zenkichi isn't about to be shameful of emotions for a puppet that elders and dogs seem to scurry from. Ukon's a damn puppit anyways. What's to be ashamed about love, even if he's young and foolish and knows he is? Sakon is all too lovely, and he's tripped and stumbled and fell over Fuji-san (Mount Fuji) with graceless stupor that seems to amuse Sakon, who only draws more of the foolishness within him.

All people are fools, and all people are fools in love. He's no idiot, even if he's a fool:

> _Zenkichi is simple minded, not stupid. He's intelligent when given the chance, and though plenty people do, that never stops some from not._
> 
> _"Zenkichi-san," Sakon calls, fiddling with the gun at a festival stand, part of some local, fun festival they decided to go to. He's got one shot, and he has to make it count._
> 
> _Ukon wanted something, (that wasn't food, for once) and Sakon felt the instinct to listen. Shoot, aim, fire — it should've been easy. Sakon knows precision in steps and movements and motions, but maybe the calculations of all three together and the hand to eye coordination is tricking him._
> 
> _"Have you ever won one of these?" Sakon asks, lining his sites._
> 
> _"I have. Plenty, actually." Zenkichi grins with utmost confidence, then maneuvers himself behind the younger man. His shoulders aren't squared enough, and with his height making aiming a little tougher at the high caps, he has to move, "Here, like... this."_
> 
> _His hands twist Sakon around, eye pinched at the bottle. After a fixing up and a hunch over, Zenkichi knows that Sakon's finger will click the trigger just right._
> 
> _"Got it— like this, now."_
> 
> _Sakon doesn't ask nor question him; he merely trusts instruction and gives an inquisitive look for said instruction. Zenkichi flicks his thumb high, and Sakon pulls the trigger. The gun recoils with power._
> 
> _They're somewhere in Naniwa (Osaka) with glowing lights. They're brighter than the sun or any star itself in Sakon's knowing, sunlight eyes._
> 
> _The morning glories, the purple in his eyes, only seem to bloom and shine with victory. A bottle cap lies on the ground._

And indeed, he's a bit of one. A smart fool.

_-_

"Sakon, c'mere," Zenkichi calls over the water.

He leans over the countless sea with no regard for holding back when his camera isn't stuck to his side. It keeps him away from the waterline, but seeing as stowed away safe in his car, nothing's keeping him from reckless activities. Diving in, leaning close enough to see the brown fish dart in the murky water, outlines just vague enough to notice in the seconds they pass by.

Sakon scoots closer but keeps away from the water's edge. Ukon isn't there for his safety. Alone together, it's silent with Sakon's thoughts inside his head and his own empty. Sakon nods up at him and stares down into the water.

"Man, I wish I could take photos down there." Zenkichi hums, thinking to himself.

"You can," Sakon says, "given the proper technology,

"Nah, nah, I have a part-time job just to go to school. My pockets are em-ty," Zenkichi sighs. At least he won't forget the effects of hard work and labor, but it's not like he willingly serves like a walking omen of office work and Japanese society.

"Perhaps a dive would suffice your hunger. The depths of here is beautiful," Sakon smiles, a finger popping ripples through the surface. Unnoticed, the tiny ripples pop against others and make it to the middle of the body of water. 

"I might," He shrugs, but doesn't consider it. His foot might lean off the edge, but he probably won't take a dive. Washing the dirt and grime and wringing out his clothes is a lot of time. 

He _thinks_ that _,_ and the force of gravity and air, or lackthereof under his feet, give way. The world has other plans, and the force of his body plummets.

Water encases him as it burns his nostrils, and the air slipping out of him means _he fell._ He pufferfishes his cheeks and bobs under the water, teetering up, then down, and shooting from the blue like a rocket ship, rising a foot above the water as he sinks into it again.

Zenkichi throws his head back and rakes a hand through his hair. "Awh, man, I'm all wet—"

Something echoes, changing and high. 

" _Pft_ —"

The air interacts with his body differently. The laws of the universe have discarded their rules.

Zenkichi feels the waves crashing against his skin, the suds of the sea under his shirt as he sputters a laugh against the wave and stares up at the silhouette as the haze clears. It clears with blinding light and standing there is Sakon, eyes caught wide as he stares down. Water flecks drag the clothes against his skin, and his lips part to curl infectiously. 

"Zenkichi-san, you-" A crack in his laughter echoes his sweetness.

They form soft edges and noise. It can't be his own; Zenkichi doesn't laugh as pretty nor nicely. They're loud and unrestrained, but this too, is. Only simply differently.

He's laughing, and he's dragging his light and laughter into Zenkichi. The light dims after a sweet forever of Sakon laughing freely for once, and reality hits like the cold water consuming his body. Zenkichi shivers, breathless from the shock of the water. 

Sakon takes a deep breathe, and Zenkichi doesn't resist the smile on his face. It takes a few more for Sakon to rid of his laughter, and it's sorrowful departure.

" _You fell into the water, Zenkichi-san."_ Sakon states, voice high incredulously or so Zenkichi thinks, "Are you alright?" Sakon inquires, attempting to discard his amused expression. His smile creaks at his lips and crinkles in his eyes. 

Zenkichi's nose burns, and his skin kind of tingles; Zenkichi has never been better. 

Sakon looks so wonderfully befuddled. 

"Never been better," Zenkichi grins, and paddles up to the edge, staring up at Sakon with his arms on the ledge. 

The light seems to scuplt his face, jaw strong and eyes tiny, almond shaped and piercing. Wet stray hairs cling to his neck, then the sections of his back Sakon can see, and the muscles look even stronger under the water. He is built with blood and iron. 

"You're sadistic," Zenkichi pouts, "Mean. Mean." And Zenkichi is entirely the masochist for letting himself suffer like this, suffer out of love and suffer through the giddy feelings and mellow happiness. Like he'd _not_ let himself. He's entirely the sadist, though. 

His fingers ache against the edge.

"Of course, Zenkichi-san." Sakon smiles amused, leaning more over the water, "I'm entirely mean."

"Cruel, so cruel," Zenkichi shakes his head.

"Seriously, you're doing me in, sweetheart." Zenkichi groans and raises a hand, and it looks innocuous. Sakon doesn't seem to notice, and Zenkichi lifts it to Sakon's hand and pulls an inch. Almost, almost—

Like Jenga, he topples over. 

"Your turn, Sakon." Is all Sakon catches before he plummets into the depths, bubbles searing across his face. 

Sakon falls forward, face forward. Awkwardly, at best. A wave of water dunks and submerges them both, and perhaps Zenkichi did not think of the water burn of earlier in his nose. Either way, he grins boyishly and smears the clinging mess of once-combed hair out of his face. 

It still clings anyway, and it's no use when Sakon bursts from underwater, hair already wet and forming against the shape of his contours again. 

Through the mess of hair, he spots breathing.

The white yukata clings to his skin, and he shoots up from the water, body barreling from side to side with the soft coughing and sputtering. His shivering body steals away the flustered blush. 

Sakon detects his eyes immediately and slithers forward, hands innocuous behind his back. 

"I thought you wanted to see underwater for photos," He comments sweetly, and Zenkichi can feel _something_. 

"Yeah, but swimmin'. Who doesn't love swimmin'?" 

Sakon sweetly bounces back and forth. 

"I enjoy partaking in swimming, Zenkichi-san. Most people tend to, but..." Something flashes in his eye, "You're more of a photography "type-of-guy", right?"

"Righttt," Zenkichi answers, and Sakon dips closer and closer. It's unusual boldness, and the hand that pulls his shirt yanks his vision away from Sakon's soft, wettened skin glowing with the dew of water. He doesn't think to look until a click of Sakon's tongue in the two seconds, and the feeling of another hand throwing something down his shirt. 

"Perhaps you'll like this." 

Something is inside his shirt, and his man squirmed around at Mach 10. 

It floats between him and the water, slimy texture bumping into his skin as his toes tense.

Zenkichi squirms with a low yelp and tosses his shirt off completely in surprisingly quick thinking. 

The perpetrator sits innocuously in the middle of the ocean. It's just kelp. And now his shirt is off, and he's only in jeans. Jeans and nothing else. And Sakon rests submerged in the water just under his lips, eyes barely abige the water. He's similar to Ukon in likeness, and though many say Sakon is nothing like the puppet, they are wrong. He's a mischievous, shy, intelligent young man. 

"Newflash, Sakon —" Zenkichi pretends as though the last minute didn't happen and advances on the young man, arms spread wider due to thickness and muscle. 

"Hm?" 

Zenkichi launches — lunges —forward with his brute strength, hands siezing the soft bumps of ribs and presses him against the soft rocks. 

"I bet you'll like this—" Zenkichi devilishly grins with grit, the handsome man, and his hands begin to wiggle with piano semblance and raspberry kisses to a pale white neck, all playful and cuddly until the kisses are caught a bit deeper — then, it's most definitely not. They'll drown in shame if too far, but for now, they float above it all. 

-

They are soaked in earth; they are pruning. They could not be doing anything better — this is the peak of life, and it doesn't go down from here. It merely heightens, somehow, despite existing as the peak.

Soft hands, in a moment of bravery, draw against the sides of a tan face and hold him in place. Sakon is wet, the white yukata drowning his figure in fabric, thin and translucent, and Zenkichi can't help the fingers that draw against the red flesh-tones of his skin, pearl white under his skin, the softest, lightest hue of pink. His hands more than roam, while Sakon stills, catching ice-cold breaths and turning them into warm gusts across his skin. It makes Sakon shiver, jolt, flush, and his hands move further with caught laughs.

Tangling through the river of his hair, Sakon drowns him in the soft white of his fingers, and cajoles him down to meet a chaste kiss. Zenkichi tastes a bit of sea, then a bit of Sakon. Tastes like lips, tastes like heaven. Slow, steady, _nervousness, they go_ \--- of course, Sakon expects nothing less than the feelings he's familiar with, and they feel refreshingly cold against his lips. They're hums in his brain, the shake and shiver against his skin, drowning in white fabric and black light glowing from the ocean as murky water becomes familiar.

His own hands, feeling risky, thumb his glowing cheeks. Sakon looks down, away, covering his face with the sleeve of the yukata, and Zenkichi pries it down, staring into blown out eyes. Motion stops, or maybe the world does.

"Y-you're staring..." Sakon says, trying to avoid his gaze, breath hitching -- each breath is a tiny victory -- and hands tensing. Even hiding his face in his shoulder, the tiny noises flutter through the air; there is no way of keeping from straying eyes. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asks matter-a-factly, drunk on the sensations Sakon drowns him in. He's not calm, and he's barely lucid enough to ask such a question, but he somehow knows what it all means.

The flickering moonlight casts quivering lines in Sakon's eyes, reflecting the depths of the sea. Murky waters, glistening tears. Zenkichi's trapped in the current and drowning in the midnight waters, compelled to swim deeper and deeper; slender arms squirm against him, embarrassment high on his cheeks, and Zenkichi only yearns for more. They can stay above it all, not indulge in such a place, but what's the fun?

And so, on instinct when he sees into the sea of white and a gaze of purple and the promise of alabaster skin under his fingers, Zenkichi decides to dip his fingers into the water and drown. Is it drowning if you choose to sink? 

He drowns and drowns and feels some more. 


End file.
